


SeasonsStuck: Spring

by DevilishKurumi



Series: SeasonsStuck [3]
Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-02 23:40:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/374658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishKurumi/pseuds/DevilishKurumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spring blooms late, with flowing fabrics, spring cleaning and, of course, the dreaded birds and the bees.  Part III of a four part series, each part taking place during a specific season and generally incorporating a specific clothing item popular during the season. Spring is for tank tops. Pairings will be updated if they change/are added to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WOW I am incredibly sorry that this took so long to post! The updates have made this go straight to AUdom, but I'm forcing myself to soldier on. To make up for my absence, Spring will be full of makeouts and maybe some smutty bits, if I feel up to it. (Hint: I feel up to it.)
> 
> Of course, first, we gotta get Eridan's depressing perspective sorted. So, without further ado - Spring is here!

            Eridan hasn't talked to Jade or Feferi in two weeks.  At first, it hadn't been because he'd been avoiding them; all three of them had thrown themselves into their final semester with more gusto than most freshmen did with their first one.  They'd texted each other every so often, but as the semester wore on and the first month passed by, Eridan found himself with more time than he'd expected.  Jade and Feferi weren't so lucky - and it isn't as though Eridan blames them for that, but now that time has gone by and they're still so busy, while he's becoming less and less so, it's starting to feel...

            Well.  It's starting to feel like maybe he's supposed to stay away.  Which is how he's felt for _forever_ ; it just kept getting pushed aside.

            He spends more time in the dark room and that's all right, because he needs to get his pictures developed for his classes; and then one day, he runs out of pictures to develop.  He doesn't really know what to do with himself when that happens, and it sort of stalls his final project so hard that he finds himself completely at a loss.

            It's hard to come up with something worth doing, something to fix the hole he feels he's dug himself in, so he takes a nap before class one day to try and get his brain back in order.  He wakes up twelve hours later with a visceral memory of blowing up the Matriorb.

            Eridan knows that he, along with the other SGRUB survivors, are all more likely to have memory dreams than regular ones, but that doesn't stop him from feeling sort of like an insane, hermitic outcast every time he wakes up with the memory of something he'd done during the game right at the forefront of his mind.

            There's an e-mail from one of his professors, asking if he's going to be able to make it to class next week, since he hasn't managed to show up once this past week (really?  He'd thought he'd made it to all his classes).  He doesn't bother to reply.

            There's a knock on his door some hours later, and he barely hears it through his dozing, sleep-addled mind.  It happens again, louder and sharper, and so he groans and rolls off his bed, shuffling to the door and opening it just a crack to see who he needs to yell at.

            Jade pushes it open with both hands before he can close it on her, and glares at him.  He wants to recoil instantly, because Jade Harley has the most intense scowl ever, but he forces himself just to glare back.  Her arms cross and he can see the muscles of her biceps tensing, and when did it get warm enough for flowy tanktops without sweaters?  "Oh, so, _finally_ you wanna come see me," he snaps.

            "I've been texting you all week!  So has Feferi, you jerkass!"

            Eridan recalls that his phone died some time ago, and he realizes he never really did get around to plugging it in.  He tries to keep glaring, to keep being defensive, but Jade looks legitimately angry and he really hates to see her looking at him like that, especially after he'd developed those goofy, happy pictures of her for her present.  It's hard to reconcile the two.

            So he steps aside to let her in, like a sullen grub about to be lectured by his custodian.  She enters and he closes the door behind her.  When she speaks, looking at his room, she sounds less angry and more concerned.  "Have you even _left_ your room this week?"

            He thought he had, but the e-mail from his professor proves that one wrong.  "I guess not."

            "Jeeze, Eridan.  Okay, first thing's first, we're doing some damned laundry!  Then, you're going to get your butt to the cafeteria and eat something.  _Then,_ you're going to come and watch movies with me and Feferi."

            "I don't really feel like going out," he mumbles.  She turns on him, looking ready to chew his head off, but then the tension goes out of her and she just looks sad.  He scowls.  " _What_?"

            She doesn't say anything for a moment; when she does speak, she sounds reserved.  "Eridan... are you okay?"

            "A'course I am," he replies automatically, running a hand through his hair (and finding it to be unstyled and a little greasy).  "I'm just havin' an artist's block, or somethin'."

            She doesn't look like she believes him.  "Okay," she starts, before rolling her eyes and grabbing him by the wrists, "The starving artist thing doesn't really look good on you, so you're going to go take a shower, and I'm going to go get you something to eat.  No backtalking," she snaps as he opens his mouth to respond, "It's intervention time, motherfucker!"

            He doesn't like the way she says _intervention_ , like he's doing something that's dangerous - all he's done is missed a few classes and caught up on his sleep, after all - but she narrows her eyes at him in expectance, and so he reluctantly nods.

            "Fine, whatever."

            Jade waits until he's gathered up his shower supplies and a towel before she leaves for the cafeteria, shooting him one last warning about not listening to her.  The meddling she's doing is nearly pale enough to remind him of Feferi, and even though that tears at him something awful, he resigns himself to it.

            Even though the water doesn't stay hot for very long in the dorm showers, Eridan spends almost twenty minutes standing under the spray, thinking about nothing in particular until the water gets too cold to stand.  He manages to scrub out his hair, which will at least make him feel less disgusting, and when he gets back to his room, he finds Jade waiting for him.  She's got two carry-out boxes from the cafeteria, and even though he can tell from how she's picking at her food that she's already had dinner, she makes every effort to eat with him anyway.

            "This is awful," she says after a while of silence.  He jerks his head to her, instinctively feeling himself prepare for some kind of rejection, even though he's made it clear that there's nothing _to_ reject, but she just makes a face at her food and says, "I'm pretty sure they don't even use real meat in any of this.  Or real vegetables, for that matter.  I should know!"

            When she looks up from the food to meet his gaze, he can see her expression blink from grossed out to startled.  "Are you okay?" she asks again.

            "I don't know," he says, and finally he feels himself relax.  He picks at the food, though now it's more out of a distaste than lethargy.  "I'm circlin' the fuckin' drain or somethin'.  I'm just all worn out."

            Jade puts a hand on his arm and he looks back at her, raising an eyebrow.  "Come over and watch movies with me, okay?"

            "And Fef?"

            "Yeah, Feferi too.  She's... kind of worried about you," she admits, letting go of his arm even though he really doesn't want her to.  "We both are.  You haven't been around all week, and even though you seemed pretty okay during New Years, you don't look okay right now.  So you should come, hang out with us, and forget about all the bullshit you have to do for a few hours."

            He pokes his food with his fork and doesn't know what to say.  He's got a lot of things on his mind and he's not sure how hanging out with some witches will help him sort it all out, but they're his friends and they care about him.  He remembers thinking _I'm going to run as far as I can_ the moment they set foot in this new universe, and he remembers how he'd gotten pretty fucking far before the two of them tracked him down and scolded him and forced him to do whatever was constituting for normal at the time.  He'd been forced into it and he'd settled for the time being, but he'd always kept thinking, _I'll run as far as I can_.

            Except now, looking back at the past year or two - he's not sure when it happened, but that thought stopped coming to him.  The last time he'd thought about running was Thanksgiving, and instead of doing it, he'd holed himself up in the darkroom until Jade and Feferi took him to dinner.

            "Shit," he says.

            "What?"

            It's not as though he's going to tell her, not right now, but Eridan's pretty sure he's figured out what the problem is.  It's like a crack of lightning snapping down and illuminating a foggy, far-off shoreline; he's stopped thinking about running, but he's so used to the thought being there that he can't stop acting on it.  And that's not fucking fair - not to him, and not to the people who have been keeping him in one spot long enough for him to stop wanting to leave.  If he's going to try and be better - if he's _really_ trying, and not just pretending because that's what he thinks he's supposed to do - then he's got to start somewhere.

            "Nothin'.  Yeah, I think it'd be a good idea to get outta here for a while.  Otherwise, I'm gonna end up sleepin' fifteen hours straight again."

            Jade stares at him for a moment or two longer, then grins and punches his shoulder.  "Exactly.  C'mon, we'll go surprise Feferi with your big reappearance."

            He tosses his food into the trash can by the desk, and when Jade hooks her arm through his to pull him out the door and down the hall (like she's expecting him to resist, and shit, how can he blame her, he's made resisting part of his nature), he bumps his arm into her shoulder reassuringly and doesn't look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vriska calls Ms. Maryam at weird hours of the morning to ask for a favor.

            Vriska doesn't need sleep.  She's absolutely sure of it; she finds her second wind sometime shortly before the sun rises, and when she climbs out of bed to take her laptop downstairs, John barely stirs.  There's no telling when her energy will dissipate, so she uses the time to her full advantage.

            Plugging her headphones in, she hooks them over her ears and lowers the mic to her mouth, opening up a voice call and dialing in the number of the only person she thinks can handle the news she needs to share.

            When Kanaya answers, it's without a hint of exhaustion; she's two hours ahead and besides, she wakes up practically at first light.  Weird rainbow drinker habits, Vriska guesses.

            "Good morning, Vriska.  You seem to be up at quite an early hour."

            "Yeah, well, I couldn't sleep!"  She tabs idly through her various social networking sites, recognizing passive aggressive statuses from Karkat for what they really are, and sighs dramatically.  For effect, of course.  "I've just got _soooooooo_ many things to do.  Irons, fires, you know the drill!"

            "Indeed I do.  Do these irons involve me?"

            "You wish."  She pauses, then says, "Actually, yes!  At least one of them does, and it's probably the hottest and most important iron I've got."

            She can hear Kanaya's smug little half-smile in her voice as she says, "This sounds remarkably close to some sort of romantic overture.  I hope you know I'm a taken troll."

            "So am I!" Vriska replies, immediately defensive, but the pinned tab in the corner of her browser brings her back to focus.  "Look, Maryam, can you keep a secret or what?  Because I've got things I need your help with, but if I can't trust you..."

            "You didn't mention a secret, Vriska.  What can I do for you?"

            Absently biting at a fingernail, Vriska goes back to Facebook and stares at it mindlessly as she considers what to say - how to break the news, really.  She knows the silence has gone on too long, because Kanaya clears her throat across the connection, maybe a little uncomfortably.  Vriska wishes she could read minds from this distance - she wishes she could influence them.  It'd make this so much _easier_.

            "I need to commission you for a dress, obviously," she says finally, defiant and flippant, as though it's the most normal thing in the world.

            "Again?"

            There's a snap to Kanaya's tone, worn out from the distance the years have put between them and that whole... _Pupa_ fiasco, but still there.  Vriska winces slightly, putting her hand to her forehead.  "Ugh, no, not like _that_.  I need your help with a wedding dress."

            "A... what?"  She can hear the other troll tapping furiously at her computer, probably turning up the volume.  "I think my connection is faulty.  I thought I heard you say _wedding_ dress."

            "That's what I said!" she snaps again.  She can hear John groaning upstairs and so she lowers her voice a bit.  "That's the secret.  I proposed to John!  Because I'm incredibly forward thinking and completely willing to do things for him like that.  I'm surprised you and Lalonde haven't done it already!"

            Kanaya is quiet for a long few moments, and Vriska almost looks to see if the connection cut out - until she hears quiet, muffled laughter.

            " _Fine!_   I'll have someone else do it, then."

            "Vriska, wait," Kanaya says, still giggling a little.  "I do not mean anything by it.  If you send me a few pictures of dresses you are already interested in, I can have a sketch for you by tomorrow."

            She almost hangs up on the other, because who needs someone laughing at them when they're asking a serious request, but her hand stills on the disconnect button.

            "...Fine, okay.  I know you won't disappoint me!"  She grins despite the fact that Kanaya can't see it.  "You _better_ not, anyway."

            _Now_ she disconnects, opening the tab up to the pictures she'd been putting together; it only takes her ten minutes to gather up and send the links to Kanaya's e-mail.  With that done, she finally closes her laptop and heads back upstairs, climbing into bed just as John starts to groan with reluctant wakefulness.

            "Go back to sleep, loser," she says, and he sleepily hits her on the shoulder.

            "I'm doing that," he mumbles, rolling over and hooking his arms around her waist.  "Go to sleep in the first place, loser," he adds, mumbling.

            Vriska lies down next to him, pillows arranged so that she can sleep on her side, and rubs her hands up and down his side until he's practically purring in his sleep.  Once she's certain he's passed out again, she one-handedly opens her laptop and goes to Facebook, surreptitiously changing her relationship status to _engaged_ , before closing the laptop again and finally allowing herself to get a little bit of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamzee has a conversation with Karkat while fantasizing about Tavros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW incredibly sorry for the delay here; this story took a pretty major beating with the updates, and it's taken me a while to get back on it. So basically, there should be one more chapter for Spring (perhaps two, if I can manage), then we'll move on to Summer. To make up for the lack of updates, we'll be adding a Fall Redux to the story, wherein we will actually see a wedding!!! So yeah, that's that. Apologies also for how short this chapter is, but the next one is going to be long as hell, so I figure it's all right.

            Gamzee feels the rubber in his knees weaken as Tavros talks to him about the kittens at the shelter, and he leans against the countertop to keep himself from sliding down to the floor.  He hasn’t had such a pleasant high in a long, long time, and he grins as he feels the fuzzy warmth in his brain ebb and flow with every drink of Faygo he takes.  Tavros has whole backstories for the kittens he sits for, and they’re all hilarious – or at least, he thinks they are.  The way Tavros giggles and snorts as he’s explaining the extensive backstory of Mischa, a tabby  they’d been given just two days ago, makes Gamzee grin and sip and ebb.

            “That’s motherfuckin’ beautiful,” he says about nothing in particular.  Tavros smiles at him.

            It's right about then that Karkat calls Gamzee's phone, the ringtone picked specifically for him blaring out of the little speakers.  Tavros always laughs when he hears it, because it's a little dancing tune, and Gamzee laughs with him as he answers.

            " _Strider is coming over for the weekend and I don't know what to do_ ," Karkat says without any prompting, and Gamzee settles down into a kitchen chair and watches as Tavros leaves the room to take a shower.  All he can think of is how easily he could join his matesprit, then and there.

            "Just relax, Karbro.  It's all gonna be motherfuckin' fine.  I told you, I talked to him.  We got all this sorted, so don't you worry about any motherfuckin' thing he does."

            "It's not that _easy_ ," Karkat whines.  Gamzee knows it's not as easy as he's saying, but he can't muster up the energy to get his tongue moving in any real helpful way.  "Because he's coming out here to deal with the whole fucking... _Sollux_ thing and I don't want to fucking be here, but I can't get out of it.  And Sollux-"

            "It's gonna be fine.  Hey, have I been up and wrong about this yet?"

            "I don't know, I can barely ever even fucking grasp the intricacies of your awful advice enough to use it!"

            "That's because you're not letting yourself take part in all I got to say, bro.  Strider and me have an understanding, an' he won't be leadin' you on any more.  Don't let yourself get riled up, anyway, since they'll probably be up and living in Solbro's room the whole time, right?  No way you're gonna have to deal with him in that case."

            Karkat huffs over the phone, but Gamzee knows he's gotten the message this time, even if it'll fade fast from his thinkpan and need to get relearned soon enough.  Hopefully it'll last through the weekend, and then Gamzee will be able to come out there and try and put it in his head in a more permanent kind of way.

            "I don't like it," Karkat says, and Gamzee imagines him pinching the bridge of his nose, lying curled up like an angry little question mark on his bed.  He chuckles at the thought of it.  "What the fuck are you laughing about?"

            "Nothin', brother, don't you worry.  I'm all up on your side."

            " _You're_ not the one who deals with Striderly bullshit on a daily fucking basis, assclown, don't tell me you're on my side when you don't even know what my side _is_."

            Gamzee considers telling Karkat all about his conversations with Strider's brother, but he decides against it just as he's opening his mouth.  It's probably not gonna help, anyway.  "I got you, I got you.  Karbro, you gotta just let the thing happen.  You know.  Move with it an' let all those emotions sweep by you down the river so you can be all clean an' happy an' at peace.  You're too motherfuckin' uptight, brother."

            "Fuck you, I have to be with idiots always making bad life choices."

            Sometimes Gamzee wonders if Karkat realizes he's got two quadrants filled, and that Sollux has none.  Well, he's got Aradia up in a pale fashion, but it's nothin' official.  Not that it has to be.  Maybe Karkat's not realizing the situation because he's too busy bein' swept up in romance.

            He says as much.  "I'm thinkin' you might be forgetting what it's like to not have your quadrants all up and filled, Karbro.  Let Solbro spread his wings, get his flush on like you have.  He's not got anybody else."

            Karkat's quiet for a long while after that, long enough that Gamzee almost forgets he's holding a conversation with the other.  He can hear the shower going, and imagines the steam rising as Tavros gets his ablution on.  _Yeah_ , he thinks, _that'd be nice_.

            "He has me," Karkat grumbles finally, but it's definitely an acquisition.  Especially since the only relationship they could ever have would be flushed or pale, and Karkat's got those filled up.  Gamzee doesn't feel even the slightest bit jealous at the idea of Karkat wanting to change up his moirail, either.  It doesn't even register.  "But okay.  _Fine_.  I'll tolerate that douchebag existing anywhere within a twenty mile radius for the weekend, so Sollux doesn't get so fucking upset he starts flinging shit with his mind."

            "Atta'bro," Gamzee drawls, and he hears the shower stop.  That's too bad.

            "...Yeah."  Karkat is quiet again, and now Gamzee finds himself hopelessly distracted, so when he speaks up again, "I guess I'll go... deal with that," Gamzee barely hears it.

            "Sure thing, best bro.  You go have a good time with that."

            "Whatever.  Get online later."

            "Yeah, okay."

            Karkat never says goodbye; he just hangs up and leaves Gamzee standing there for a minute or two longer before he realizes the line's disconnected.  This time he realizes quicker, however, as a text comes through and beeps in his ear.

(713) _I heard my little brother is going to spend the weekend at his boyfriend's house.  How is your brofriend handling that particular piece of news?_  
(970) _he's all good.  GOT A LITTLE FUCKING RILED.  but i got it._

            He realized a while ago that he tends to text Strider a whole lot differently than he does everyone else, but for some reason it doesn't phase him.  Even though he knows exactly what it means to be typing like a sober motherfucker.

(713) _Good.  I didn't want to have to ruin our brotastical relationship by busting Karkat's teeth in for making the situation with Dave difficult._  
(713) _Well.  More difficult than is already apparent._  
(970) _i motherfucking got you, bro._

            He hears Tavros approaching, and looks up to find him standing there in a towel and nothing else.  He smiles lazily.

            "Good motherfucking ablutions, Tavbro?"

            "Uh, yeah.  You know it."  Tavros laughs and then kind of shies away momentarily, all coy and a little bashful but mostly for play.  "Though, uh, it wasn't really great, since you, weren't there with me."

            Gamzee runs his tongue over his lip.  "Well, brother.  We can always get a little motherfuckin' dirty together, so's that I can be up in your showering properly."  His little grin gets bigger when Tavros shrugs his shoulders, letting a lazy kind-of-high smile creep all over his face, and he turns to go.

            "That, uh.  Could be arranged."

            Gamzee loves watching the way Tavros retreats, all lanky and yet muscley and real pleasing.  But he's gonna love catching up to him.  He taps out a be-right-back message to his Striderly buddy, and then drops his phone onto the table again, following the smell of Tavros's shampoo.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave gets tired of actively avoiding Karkat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually feels like a pretty good ending for Spring. There are some warnings to be advised of, so please be aware: **sex, violence and tentadick** are all involved in this monstrous chapter.

            Dave has been at Sollux's for thirty-two hours, and he is getting really fucking tired of dealing with bullshit troll relationships.  Or relationships in general.  Emotions, feelings and people, those all can go pretty much to hell.

            It's basically like this: Dave knows he's going to make the moves on Sollux - sometimes he thinks he might already have, but he's ninety percent sure Gamzee or Tavros would've saved him from accidentally macking on a cross-faded psionic troll - but he also knows that he can't let himself do it now.  Every time that seems good passes too quickly for him to come up with the perfect line, and a Strider doesn't court someone half-assed.  So right now, Sollux is on the sidelines, giving him looks like _come on, dude, I don't have all day_ , (and yes, Dave's noticed them).  They've been busy searching for apartments online, using Aradia to help them figure out where they should be looking, location-wise, and they've been blasting shitty techno and playing video games too much for Dave to focus much on that whole... flushed thing.  Or whatever.  Fuck that noise.

            Which leaves the other loose canon in his emotional crisis of a life - one Karkat Vantas, resident fucking idiot and completely obnoxious mother hen.  He's pretty sure Karkat is the reason why Sollux leaves his door half open during the afternoon, like he's making sure Karkat knows nothing weird's going on.  It drives Dave up the wall every time he sees Karkat glancing in as he walks by from the kitchen.  The kitchen that Dave pretty much doesn't visit, relying on Sollux to get him snacks and drinks because God knows if he were to run into Karkat on his way there, the guy would hiss and spit and probably have a fucking heart-attack just from trying to pretend he isn't hot for Dave.

            Yeah, that's still a thing, and it's still not any less obvious or pathetic.

            Sollux passed out an hour ago, leaving Dave to cruise the internet on his laptop and listen to Karkat growling and making weird snappy noises in his room next door.  He gets a kind of perverse pleasure from the idea that Karkat can hardly handle coexisting with him in this vague, we-don't-talk-at-all way without having a fit.  Karkat's inability to keep his emotions from boiling over is hilarious and _so easy_ to abuse.  All he has to do is yawn and stretch and accidentally knock his fist to the wall, and Karkat makes a growly noise of disproval.  He wonders what would happen if he started rocking Sollux's bed just enough for the headboard to hit the wall.  Would Karkat come storming in here, intent on ruining their romantic escapades?  He probably would.  And he'd get completely red in the face, that weird over-ripe fruit expression on his face - it's one Dave's gotten extremely used to, the slow burn of building up his advances over the years making expressions of disgust and rage from Karkat practically a second language to him.

            Wait.  What advances?

            Dave opens up a downloaded version of some shitty Neopets game and blows up color-coded blocks for thirty minutes.  During those thirty minutes, all he thinks about is how to approach possibly crawling into bed with Sollux, how he'd explain himself in the morning, if he'd need to -

            And Karkat's door slams, returning him to reality.  He purses his lips and listens as the other quietly stomps down to the kitchen, and considers the look on the other's face if he were to go down there for his own snack this time.  No Sollux to protect him from his awkward, stupid emotional attachments, no psionics to serve as a referee if they were to actually throw down.  Dave is pretty sure that's what Karkat needs.  A good solid beatdown, _completely platonic_ , to remind him that Dave just isn't fucking interested.  For the first time, Dave wishes he still had his god tier cape, because getting that asshole tangled up in that thing had been fucking hilarious, and it had kind of diffused the situation.  ...Not really, okay, but kind of.

            Karkat just needs a good solid smack back into reality, Dave thinks.  He hears the microwave beep.

            Twenty seconds later and he's down the stairs, leaning against the kitchen archway.  Karkat is chewing on a breakfast burrito and staring at the clock on the microwave.  Dave clears his throat idly, causing him to spin around, mouth stuck in mid-chew.  His eyes immediately narrow and he swallows thickly, before attempting to neutralize his expression a little.  It doesn't really work.  Dave's pretty sure Karkat has no idea how to wear a poker face - which works just fine for him.

            "Sup," he says.

            "Go the fuck away," Karkat replies.

            "Man, is that any way to treat the guy you're trying to get with?"  Dave approaches, then passes Karkat as he heads to the fridge, opening it up and getting an idle eyeful of the food they've got on hand.  "I mean, I get that there's this whole hate thing, but telling me to go away has to be counterproductive."

            Dave can practically feel Karkat's eyes boring holes into the back of his head; it's a reassuring feeling.  It feels... right, even.  He's not sure how to feel about that.  "I'm trying to keep my fucking distance from you, you disgusting waste of space.  That's what everyone keeps telling me to do, and look at me, I'm fucking _obliging_ them, and yet here you fucking are, in _my hive,_ abusing _my friend_ and basically being completely fucking terrible."

            "If that's what you're trying to do, bro, you're doing a shitty job of it."  Dave pulls out a bag of too-ripe grapes and swings the fridge door shut, turning to lean against it.  Karkat stares at him.  "Stomping around, growling every five seconds, making Captor leave the door open so I can't get my red romance on - that's pretty fucking low of you, dude.  Not to mention, pretty overt.  I mean, if I were a man more willing to make sacrifices, I'd be downright intrigued by your advances."  He pulls the bag open and pops a grape into his mouth, squishing it loudly between his teeth.  "Thankfully, I've got standards, and you're way below them."

            "What the fuck would you even know about this shit?  You don't know anything about quadrants - the fact that Terezi's put you in one of hers just shows how fucking pathetic you are.  She's just doing it to make you feel better about your sad, worthless life."

            Dave has two sudden, coinciding thoughts.  _Don't talk about Terezi like that_ is one, racing alongside the memory of Gamzee pulling him in, hissing at him, _you're plenty able to fill both of those quadrants_.

            Not that he would.  He's down here to talk sense into Karkat, to confront him and get him over Dave, so they can go on their merry ways, and _why is Karkat looking at him like that_.

            "Shit," he hears the troll mumble, and then he watches him abandon his burrito and make a beeline for the stairs.  Dave moves quicker than him, though, and so it's not hard for him to grab Karkat's wrist and yank him back, the grapes abandoned by Karkat's food.  "Let go of me, you stupid, gangrenous mass of -"

            "Shut up for five seconds, would you?" Dave snaps, and Karkat does exactly that; he falls silent, staring at Dave with this flight-not-fight sort of look in his eye.  "Seriously, all you do is yammer on, using all these big fucking words that I'm pretty sure you don't have the brainpower to actually _process_ , and you talk all about your stupid feelings as if anyone actually gives a crap.  It's _stupid_.  This whole thing is fucking _dumb_.  If you want some bad romance, set-fire-to-Lady-Gaga mackings, then fine.  Let's fucking do it."

            "I - what?"

            Dave realizes suddenly that he's looming over Karkat, putting his extra height to full use, and he doesn't think he really cares.  He's been looking at this all wrong.  He's been thinking _fuck this noise_ , treating the situation like it's something to actively avoid dealing with - but _why_?  Fuck it.  Terezi had warned him against Karkat, because it would pull her into some other quadrant or some shit, but _why would it_?  And besides.  Maybe all Karkat needs is to get this shit out of his system.  He'll realize he's just not that into Dave and bail, and things can be fucking _sane_ again.

            So, fuck it.

            You only live once, right?

            Karkat's hand comes up as a defensive measure as Dave leans in, fingers flexing into a fist before spreading out wide in a sign of distress as Dave bites his lower lip hard between his teeth.  He can feel Karkat resist for all of five seconds, before his hand grabs a fistful of Dave's hair and yanks him back, throwing his (somewhat considerable) troll strength around so that he can pin Dave to the kitchen archway, snarling into his mouth before thrusting his tongue between his teeth.  It's really fucking underwhelming, and yet Dave can't keep from groaning a little, his hands roaming Karkat's head until they grab a hold of both horns and use them to hold Karkat close to him.  He's not even sure if they're sensitive, but Karkat goes rigid anyway, hissing and scratching Dave's face a little as he drags his hand from his hair, down to his neck.  He squeezes roughly, forcing the air out of Dave's lungs, and Dave finds himself gasping for breath.

            It's a little fucking mortifying to be so turned on by that, but Karkat's eyes are murderous and Dave thinks it looks pretty fucking hot.  In a really fucked up, one-time-only sort of way.

            "You're fucking loathsome," Karkat snarls, and Dave can't help but roll his eyes at it.

            "The only thing loathsome about me is that I'm entertaining your stupid crush on me, dude.  You realize that's what this is, right?  Me just..."  Dave trails off when he feels Karkat's hip roll against his, distracted just long enough for Karkat to grin at him before finishing, "...Just humoring you.  This isn't even, uh.  Going to be a thing."

            Karkat looks surprised for a moment, breathing hot in Dave's face, and then his face twists into a malicious expression of pleasure; he can hear Karkat purring, somewhere in the back of his throat, and feels his hips roll again.  Shit.

            "Yeah, that's just what this fucking is," he mumbles, biting Dave's lip.  Dave can already taste copper on his tongue, but he doesn't think twice about it.  He just twists his hands around Karkat's horns, squeezing roughly before bringing a hand down to his collarbone, pushing him away viciously.  He doesn't think about watching his strength, because Karkat doesn't need him to.  He can feel a sharp sting in his lower lip, and he runs his tongue over it, feeling the gash there and swearing under his breath because it's just like last time, except now he's not pushing Karkat away to stop him.  He's just playing hard to get.

            Maybe that's what he's been doing this whole time.

            Karkat's shoulders are hunched, and that rasping purr has turned into a low growl, like a feral animal's.  He looks ready to lunge forward.  Dave beats him to the punch, reaching out a long arm and twisting his fist into Karkat's shirt collar, yanking him to the side and shoving him again, pushing until he backs into the living room couch.  He keeps pushing.

            "Watch what you're fucking doing, you-"

            Dave lets go of Karkat's shirt, then shoves him with both hands to his shoulders, knocking him over the back of the couch with a startled yelp.  Karkat's hands grip Dave's shirt as he falls, yanking him forward, and Dave finds himself climbing over the couch without thinking about it.  His knee knocks into the wooden support beam and he winces, but then Karkat's claws are in his hair, digging into his scalp, and he's too busy giving Karkat's lower lip a firm gnawing on to care about the ache in his leg.  He bites and snarls and hears Karkat snarling back, and he grabs him by the neck and squeezes, like Karkat had done to him.  He figures it's probably something kismesises do.

            Karkat's hands flail in wide arcs before his claws find Dave's back; he can hear his shirt ripping and sharp, stinging pain as Karkat claws at him, but in the heat of the moment, all the pain just goes straight to his dick.  He hisses out, "Ffffuck," against Karkat's face, and scrambles for the hands sunk into his back.  He pushes until he pins Karkat's arms down by the elbows, pressing them into the cushions and staunchly ignoring Karkat's legs as they kick on either side of him.  He presses his face against Karkat's neck, biting right under the sharp curve of his jaw and earning a strangled yowl for his efforts.  All he wants to do is bite until Karkat gives up, but he's not sure what he wants him to give up _on_.  Him, maybe.  Besting him, more likely.

            "You're barely even leaving a scratch," Karkat gasps, struggling against Dave's grip on his arms, "If you're going to do this, at least _try_."

            Dave reaches up and smacks Karkat in the face, before changing direction abruptly and reaching a hand between them.  The position they're in is awkward as fuck, and Dave's shins are aching where they rest against the top of the couch, but it gives him a perfect angle to reach between them and palm Karkat roughly through his jeans.  Karkat's strangled hiss is enough to encourage him, even though the thing he's feeling beneath the fabric isn't exactly what he'd expected.  He's not sure what he expected, actually.

            " _Strider_ ," Karkat snarls.  Dave smirks and grinds his palm into the bulge he's feeling out, and Karkat has to bite back a moan.  Dave wants to tease Karkat more, wants to make him _beg_ , because that's seriously the only thing that should get him as hot and bothered as he is now, but the fact of the matter is that he's too wound up.  He doesn't want to draw this out - he wants Karkat's stupid, probably ugly alien dick and he wants that shit _now_.

            So he unzips Karkat's jeans - doesn't bother unbuttoning them, fuck that - and reaches in to pull the bulge out of his boxers.  And it's fucking weird.  He tilts his head down, pressing the top of his head into Karkat's collarbone, and stares at the thick tendril in his hand.  It's stiff, but undulating in his grip, and Dave can't help but think _holy shit, tentacle dick_.

            "Are you fucking kidding me," he growls.  He thinks about what this means about Sollux, and what it means about him because now all he can think is _this is gross,_ then, _this is hot._

            He's more fucked up than he realized.

            Fuck it.

            Karkat is keening under him, his bizarre bulge slowly twisting in his grip, and Dave grins unkindly and squeezes until Karkat socks him in the shoulder.  "Fucking - filthy, stupid, fuck you," he snarls, incoherent as he writhes against the cushions, his feet kicking Dave roughly.

            "Yeah, bro," Dave says, sitting back as best he can to undo his fly, Karkat's eyes locked onto his every move, "That's pretty much where we're going here."

            "You're just..."  Karkat pauses as Dave struggles out of his pants, bending in ways he hadn't thought he'd be able to move.  "You're just gonna give up?  Just like that?"  He sounds put out.

            Dave looks down at him as he shucks off his pants and boxers in one go.  Karkat's eyes lock onto his arousal, looking even more put off than he sounds, and Dave raises an eyebrow from behind his shades.  "I'm not giving up," he says, and he wriggles around until his knees fall on either side of Karkat's hips.  Karkat's bulge presses against his own length, and it coils lightly, like it wants to wrap around him but can't quite get the move for it.  Dave hisses and tries not to think about what he's doing.

            "You're just going to let me-"

            "I'm not _letting you_ ," Dave snarls, suddenly, as though remembering the situation at hand.  He grabs Karkat's horn and yanks his head up, forcing him to his elbows so he won't break his neck, and jerks roughly enough to draw a panicked noise from Karkat's mouth.  "I'm doing what _I_ want, because you're too much of a pussy to just come and get me."

            "I _tried_ ," Karkat says, and Dave really doesn't like how anxious he looks, like Dave's saying the wrong thing to him, so he leans down and bites Karkat's lip until he can taste blood.  It's not coppery like his, but it's thick and metallic nonetheless.  Karkat moans and digs his claws into Dave's cheek.  He can feel them pierce the skin, and it's a singular fucking experience.

            Karkat's bulge is secreting this bizarre red fluid, and all Dave can think is _thank god, I don't have to get up_.  "It's pathetic how into this you are," Dave mutters against his mouth.

            "I'm not the one whose bizarre bulge is standing to fucking attention like a goddamn block of stone."  It's a half-assed retort, and Dave can feel Karkat's bulge twitching against his dick, but he doesn't let up quite yet.  He wants to hear Karkat ask him to do it.

            "You're so fucking desperate," Dave says, still muttering mostly into Karkat's mouth, "You know I wouldn't even give you the time of day if you weren't living with Sollux.  Thank _God_ that's almost over.  As soon as he and I are in Los Angeles, I'll never have to see your ugly, over-ripe face squish up in trying-too-hard disdain, or deal with you stalking around, trying to get my attention like some kind of groupie with no VIP pass."

            Karkat snarls and bites down on his lip again, and the blood flows between them again.  Dave's whole body twitches, and Karkat smirks against his mouth.

            "And you'll fucking miss someone actually giving a shit about whether or not you exist, if only because you being near them disgusts them."

            He wants to strangle Karkat again.  he wants to bite his horn, or yank his head back and suck on his throat until he knows that Dave has the upper hand here.  But he saves it for later; he's tired of waiting for Karkat to give in, and he knows it'll go on too long if he tries to wait anyway, so he shifts his legs as wide as they'll go and pulls himself up, hovering over Karkat's bulge.  Karkat stares up at him with this passionate sort of loathing in his eyes, and the strange thing is that it makes Dave feel _wanted_ in a way he hadn't known he'd like to feel.

            "You're lucky I'm allowing you to even _get_ this far with me," Dave growls, and as he sinks down onto Karkat's bulge, he reaches a hand out and presses his knuckles into his throat.  Karkat groans, then gasps, then _writhes_ , turning live-wire under Dave.  His claws reach out, digging into the back of Dave's neck, then scratch harshly down his shoulders and back, down to the curve of his spine.  Dave's too overwhelmed to think about the heat dripping from his back, because Karkat is thicker than he expected, and he should have prepped himself more, and this kind of fucking _hurts_ -

            Until Karkat's bulge writhes inside him, twisting and pressing and _fffuck_.  Dave hisses, then moans, and Karkat says, "Fucking _move_ , you sack of shit."  So Dave does.  He rocks his hips, barely pulling off of Karkat, and can hear him growl and make these weird little sobbing noises.  His nails dig into Karkat's shoulders through his shirt, too blunt to slice through the cloth like Karkat's have, but he doesn't care.

            "Fuck, Vantas," he says, refusing to admit to the whine in his voice, rocking his hips, " _Fuck_."

            Karkat moves a hand down and wraps it around Dave's arousal, squeezing and twisting his wrist until Dave punches him on the shoulder.  "If you break it, I'll snap your nasty tentadick in half," he snarls.

            Karkat relents, his grip softening until he's just barely holding Dave in his hand, and he strokes a few times before picking up the rhythm.  Dave rocks and groans and tries to focus, but everything's kind of hazy.  Karkat's bulge twitches and presses into the bundle of nerves inside Dave, and he can't help but howl at that, shocked by the sudden sensation.  He hadn't expected Karkat to actually find that.

            Karkat's eyes roll upwards, nearly into his skull, and his grip tightens unbearably around Dave; Dave punches him in the throat and makes him gag and spasm, choking and bucking his hips.  It feels so fucking good that Dave doesn't see Karkat's fist until it's too late - he's knocked silly by a blow to the nose, reeling backward.  His head feels even fuzzier, his nose throbbing, but Karkat's hands dig into his hips and he finds himself bucking along with Karkat.  His sunglasses are askew, and he can see Karkat staring up at him with a bloody sneer on his face.  Fuck, his head hurts.

            Karkat jerks him off roughly, with no concern for friction burn, and Dave thinks it's gross that he's getting off on this despite that fact.  He pants and twitches and feels Karkat go stiff as a board under him, his bulge pulsing, and then there's this heavy, thick feeling inside him and _fuck_ , that's - that's enough to make Dave come too, swearing a blue streak.

            He slumps against the back of the couch, Karkat's bulge still inside him, pressing against his over-sensitive nerves and wracking Dave's body with too-much-too-soon shudders.

            "Fuck," Karkat murmurs.  Dave tries to nod in agreement, but his neck burns.  He feels way, _way_ too tired, too quickly, and he tries to slip off of Karkat's bulge.  Everything is blurry, and his mouth tastes thickly of copper.

            He realizes after he manages to fall off of Karkat's bulge that he doesn't really want to move; his whole body burns, and he can see bright red dripping along Karkat's thighs.  Man, it looks like someone got fucking murdered.  That's fucked up.

            "Strider," Karkat's saying, and Dave looks up at him.  Somewhere between the moment when he'd noticed the red all over Karkat's thighs and Karkat speaking, he'd moved off the couch, kneeling next to him now.  "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

            "Nothing," Dave mumbles, and he realizes he can't breathe through his nose.  "Fuck, man, I think... you broke my nose."

            Karkat is staring at him, and so he blearily pushes his shades up, wincing as the move brings fire through his arm.  He doesn't like the look on Vantas's face one fucking bit.  He looks... wigged out.

            "Shit."  Suddenly, somehow, Karkat's hands are on him, pulling him forward, and Dave groans in pain.  Fuck, his back is so goddamn sore and _hot_.  " _Shit,_ " Karkat hisses into his ear, "Shit, fuck, _fuck_."

            "What?" Dave mumbles, craning his head despite the pain that shoots up through his skull.  He realizes that there are dark red blotches all over the couch, especially where he'd been sitting.  What the fuck.  "What-"

            "I'm so fucking sorry," Karkat says, "I'm - fuck, I didn't think-"

            "Vantas," Dave says, slowly, unable to put any real malice in his tone, "Did you fucking maul me."

            "Oh fuck."

            "You fucking mauled me."

            Now that Dave knows he's bleeding, he can suddenly feel it all over - his nose is dripping blood, his mouth is gashed open, there are long, deep cuts across his chest and arms, and the burning pain in his back means it's probably the same.  He feels kind of dizzy, now that he thinks about it, and he wonders if he's got a concussion to boot.

            "Just - fuck, hold on," Karkat's saying, stumbling over himself to push himself back into his pants, staggering to Dave's boxers and helping him get them on.  "Shit, I have - just hold on, okay, I have to go get Sollux."

            "Fuck no," Dave says, but by the time his brain catches up with the situation, Karkat is well out of arm's reach.  Dave slumps and closes his eyes, then thinks better of it and forces himself to keep them open.  His hands are shaking, which is a bad sign.  Fuck, his head is killing him.

            Karkat is shouting, but Dave can't really focus on the words, and before he knows it Sollux is crouching in front of him, staring at him with this strange, horrified sort of expression.

            "Sup," Dave says, because what the fuck else do you say when you're pretty much bleeding out on your bro's couch after having hate sex with his best friend?

            "We need to go to the hothpital," Sollux says, and Dave groans because that sounds so fucking not fun.  He doesn't want to explain this to a nurse.  Karkat looks downright fucking ashen, his own split lip dripping bright red blood onto his chin.  Dave has to admit, he's kind of deliriously proud of that.

            It takes some effort, but Karkat and Sollux manage to pull Dave up.  Dave feels like dead weight, and he can't find his footing, but Sollux uses his power to help keep him upright and, for the most part, Dave doesn't have to do shit.

            "I can't _fucking believe you_ ," Sollux is snarling, and Dave's never heard him sound so angry before.  "I can't _fucking_ believe you, Vantath, I _can't_.  How could you-"

            "I didn't mean to," Karkat says, but instead of sounding irritated or pissed off, he just sounds scared.  Dave imagines that Karkat could get in a lot of trouble for this.  "I didn't think-"

            "Yeah, that's fucking _right_ you didn't!"

            Dave groans, "Glad you two care, but, uh, kind'a been mauled over here."

            " _Shut up_ ," Sollux growls, and Dave hunches his shoulders, immediately cowed.  "I'm not even _near_ ready to tell you jutht how much of a fucking moron _you've_ been.  I can't fucking believe thith."

            "Vantas started it," Dave says, quietly, and then he laughs because fuck, yeah, he _did_.  Sollux seethes, but doesn't say anything as he helps Karkat get Dave into the backseat of his car.  Dave lays across the back seat and tries not to close his eyes.

            He doesn't know when, but suddenly they're driving - or, Sollux is driving, which is weird as fuck because since when does Sollux actually _drive_ \- and Karkat is saying something in a tear-stricken voice that Dave can't quite make out.  His head is pounding, his nose throbbing, his back is on fire -

            "-I'm so sorry, Sollux, I didn't mean to, I didn't realize, he was _fine_ , we were just-"

            " _Don't_ ," Sollux snaps, an edge of hysteria to his voice, "Don't even _fucking_ go there, I don't want to hear it."

            Karkat turns in the passenger seat to look at Dave, who blinks back at him.  "Strider, don't you dare fucking die."

            "Shut up, you moron," Dave replies, slurring a little but staying coherent, "I'm not gonna die."

            "This isn't the time for your caliginous attempts, idiot," Karkat snarls.

            Dave struggles to sit up, despite the pain in his head, and grabs for Karkat - he manages to get a hold of his ear and he yanks, earning a snarl.  "You don't even know how t'bone someone without fuckin' maulin' them," he says, "This is the perfect fuckin' time for calig'nous remarks.  You're fuckin' stupid.  Told you you weren't worth my fuckin' time."

            Karkat barks out a laugh and yanks Dave's hand from his ear, sounding hysteric but looking kind of relieved.  Sollux growls but doesn't say anything.

            The rest of the short drive goes by in a blur of light and colors, and Dave doesn't realize he's being helped into the E.R. until someone shouts for assistance.  Then, there's no fucking way for him to keep track of what's going on - everything moves too fast, and he reels until someone sticks him with a needle.

            He comes to a couple of times.  He hears Sollux explaining something to someone, then Karkat making these terrible hiccuping sounds.  He sees a pretty nurse at his side, and he slurs out a compliment that she laughs distractedly at.  Sollux leans over him at one point and hisses, "I am tho fucking angry at you."

            He feels pretty shitty for that.

            When he finally starts gaining real, honest awareness of his situation, he's lying in a hospital bed in the E.R., Sollux and Karkat nowhere to be found and a troll he doesn't know standing next to his bed, checking the readouts on the monitor he's connected to.

            "Fuck," Dave says, breathing through his nose and finding that he can do it, even if it hurts like a bitch, "A sack full of fuckin' cats, bro."

            "Excuse me?" the troll asks, turning to look at him.

            "Vantas," he clarifies, "is a sack full of cats."

            The troll frowns for a moment, then smiles wryly and pulls up a chair, sitting down next to Dave.  He starts talking, and Dave tunes him out a little, until he hears Karkat's name.  Then, he stares at the troll until he repeats himself.

            "Mr. Vantas may be in a lot of trouble," he says, slowly, "If this was an unprovoked-"

            "Hah."  Dave laughs, making a face at how that sounds.  "Yeah right, are you kidding?  I was the one who instigated this shit."

            The troll doesn't look phased.  "Caliginous romance is not something a human is physically capable of handling," he says.

            "Fuck you, you don't know me."  He grins and blinks at the doctor, who looks put off, "You don't know what I've been through, dude.  You don't know shit."

            "As it stands, this is above and beyond what usually happens - Mr. Vantas is displaying signs of classic kismesissitudal upbringing.  He's extremely violent."

            "Yeah, he is," Dave snaps, and now he finds himself struggling to sit up.  He knows full well that the trolls that live on Earth now aren't the same as the twelve that helped create the world in the first place.  They think they've been living here for centuries.  That their old planet's attitudes are a thing of the past.  That this kind of violence is _outdated and dangerous_.  Which might be right, but Dave's not about to let some motherfucker slander his bros just because he doesn't know what it used to be like.

            "Mr. Strider-"

            "No, shut up."  Dave points at him.  "You don't know shit 'bout me and my friends, so how about you fuck off.  I'm not pressin' charges or anythin', so he's not in trouble, and if I want him to get rabid on my ass, there ain't nothin' you can do about it."

            Fuck, he wishes he weren't still doped up, he sounds like a hick.  But it doesn't matter, because the doctor seems to actually take him seriously.

            "I would like to recommend quadrant counseling," he says, tentatively.

            "I'd like to recommend you go get my kismesis so I can punch him in the face for breakin' my nose."

             He doesn't mean to actually _call_ Karkat his quadrantmate, but it slips out, and he remembers Gamzee again.  _I never said you couldn't do it_.  That's not exactly what Chuckles said, but it's close enough, and it's exactly what Dave thinks right now.  The troll is looking at him with sad, misunderstanding eyes.

            "Mr. Strider - humans, generally, aren't very suitable for these kinds of quadrants - as it stands, Mr. Vantas poses a serious threat to your health, should you continue to pursue-"

            "Hey."  Dave struggles, leans forward, and forces himself to recall that vicious growl Karkat had made when he'd shoved him towards the couch.  He manages to mimic it pretty decently, and relishes in the fact that the troll looks sincerely fucking shocked.  " _Fuck.  Off._   I'm not pressin' charges, I'm not upset at him, and I'm not gonna die.  So _go.  Tell.  My.  Friends.  I'm.  Fine._ "

            He wishes that he had the Lalonde stare of death perfected, but he has to make due with what he's got.  Thankfully, it seems to work, because the troll quickly excuses himself and leaves.  Dave slumps back into the pillows and groans.  Fuck everything.  This was not supposed to go this way.  He's _definitely_ sure he isn't supposed to feel so fiercely protective over Karkat, either, but he can't help it.  The asshole was from a different world than these trolls.  Aradia had told him enough about the cultural divide for him to know that.

            Karkat slips through the curtain with his tail proverbially between his legs, his lip stitched up and an ice pack in hand, which he holds to his throat.  Dave's sickly pleased to see that it's mottled reddish-black.

            "Dave, I'm-"

            Karkat comes right in range, and Dave reaches out and socks him in the face.  Karkat howls and stumbles back, dropping the icepack and grabbing his nose, snarling obscenities.

            "That ought'a teach you."

            Karkat stares at him for a full minute, before sagging and falling into the chair the doctor had been in, holding his nose with one hand and reaching out to squeeze Dave's wrist with the other.  Dave grins lazily.

            "But we're not doing that shit again," he says.  Karkat looks pained, so he clarifies, "The scratchin' shit, I mean.  You're too fuckin' stupid to handle that shit, I should've known."

            "Fuck you," Karkat snaps.

            "Jesus fuck, dude, I'm not even outta the hospital yet.  Are you that fucking desperate?"  When Karkat doesn't respond immediately, Dave frowns and adds, "I'm doped up to hell, fuckhead, I'm not in any position to be super black with you.  Give me a few days."

            Dave has a feeling that it isn't normal for a troll to look so relieved at a black admission, but he lets it slide because Karkat is fucking weird.  He doesn't ask if this means they're seriously filling a quadrant, which is a relief, because Dave doesn't know if he has the strength to punch him again.  It's probably not going to be the way Karkat wants it to be, but it's better than nothing, he supposes.

            Karkat's nose is barely swollen and not broken at all, so he doesn't get called out as he slips from the E.R. room a few minutes later.  Sollux comes in, and now that Dave can see him properly, he can tell that the fucker hasn't been doing anything but worrying this entire time.

            "Hey," Dave says.

            Sollux sits in the chair and doesn't say anything, just looks at him.

            "So, I know we were all, y'know, not rooting for this to happen, but it sort of has, and I'm hopin' you're not going to let this change your mind about L.A., because, sorry to say, I'm already packing my shit, and I don't want to have to unpack-"

            "Your eyeth are red," Sollux says, and Dave snaps his mouth shut.  He forgot about his shades - or lack thereof.

            "Uh," Dave says.  "Yeah."

            "Your eyeth are red, and you nearly bled to death."

            "...Yeah."

            Sollux leans forward and drops his head onto the uncomfortable hospital bed.  "My head ith fucking killing me," he murmurs, and he sounds so fucking miserable.  Dave reaches out a hand and cards his fingers through Sollux's hair.

            "...I don't do apologies," he says, "But I'm sorry."

            He feels something warm and tingly, like static electricity, brush the stitched up gash on his cheek, then sing along his scalp, the pressure moving and mimicking Dave's own fingers.

            "Yeah," Sollux says quietly, "Yeah, I know."

            "...We cool?"

            Sollux is silent for a long time, but the psionic pressure doesn't let up in Dave's hair, and he never stops moving his own fingers.  Finally, Sollux leans his head back, looking Dave right in the eyes.

            "Yeah."  He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "We're fine.  I..."  He looks really fucking tired, and Dave feels his gut twist at the look on Sollux's face.  "I really don't want to authpithticize for you two.  Pleathe don't make me."  The tone of his voice only makes the guilty twist even worse.

            "No."  Dave scratches the short hairs on Sollux's neck gently, earning a low noise.  "I'm not gonna do that shit to you or Terezi.  Everybody's gotta stop acting like they need to step in here.  Me and Vantas are fine.  We've got this."  He pauses, considers, then says, "Just a kink we'll work out with the situation.  It'll be fine."

            "...Are you seriously going black for KK?"

            Dave shrugs.  "It was pretty hot, up until I got grated like a prime piece of salami in a sandwich shop."

            Sollux chuckles, wheezing a little, and then drops his head back down to the mattress.  "Fuck.  Dude."  He keeps chuckling.  "Fuck me."

            "All of you trolls want up on my bonebulge the second I'm in the hospital," Dave drawls, "What the fuck is up with that?"

            Sollux lifts a hand and punches Dave's shoulder without looking, then drapes his arm across Dave's thighs and leaves it there.  Dave doesn't do a damn thing to move him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aradia gets woken up at four in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bonus bit to give you guys something more than just four chapters that suck. Hopefully you guys enjoy it, and we'll be starting up SummerStuck next!

            It's four in the morning and Aradia has a final in six hours, so when she hears someone knocking timidly on her front door, she is not exactly pleased.  As it stands, she hasn't been getting enough sleep.  She's been too busy with last-call club duties, finals, graduation looming - it's taken its toll on her, leaving her exhausted and more than a little irritable.

            She doesn't get the door the first time there's a knock at it; she simply rolls over in bed and covers her head with a pillow.  Her horns prevent her from actually covering her ears, though, so she hears the next knock just as clearly, five minutes later.  It sounds kind of urgent.

            With a frustrated groan, she slides out of bed, pulling on a robe and making her slow, sleep-stumbling way through her dark apartment.  The only light comes from the hallway outside her front door and the orange glow of a streetlight near her porch.  "What _is it_ ," she growls as she opens the door, not worried in the slightest because she can take anybody at any hour - time is on her side, after all.  "What do you--"

            She cuts herself off, abruptly stepping back when she realizes that it's Equius standing there, looking tired and stressed and so anxious -

            "Aradia," he says.

            "Equius?"  She feels her pulse stutter, and she notices briefly how intimidating he looks, framed by yellow light and covered in shadow.  But his expression is so sincere that she doesn't think about it for long.  Instead, she asks, "What are you _doing_ here?"

            "I."  He stands there, shifting, and she realizes he's not wearing his sunglasses.  Not that she's surprised by that, considering the late hour.  "I..."

            He flounders helplessly.  Aradia feels a faint stabbing pain in her chest for him, sympathetic and pitiful, and she finally smiles sleepily and says, "Why don't you come in."

            His shoulders sag.  "I would... appreciate that."

            He steps inside and she closes the door behind him.


End file.
